


Unrequited

by kittybenzedrine



Series: Timelines [22]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Flirtation, Persistence, Semi-explicit sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: Most of the time, Ren is around 100 when her and Leo meet. This time around, she's over 200 and doesn't have time for things like companionship, or romance. Leo isn't a man that gives up, however, and he wants her._____All pieces of the Timelines series are standalones and can be read without context.





	Unrequited

Renee only remembers his name this time because he signs it at the bottom of the letter he sent. Her and Léonce have met a few times in passing, never exchanging more than a handful of words and pleasantries. It was slightly embarrassing last time, if she's even willing to use the word embarrassed. Uncomfortable, maybe.

There was a formal event, and she accepted the invitation. He happened to be there, and they made small talk and snide comments off to the side. As is their nature. Quietly joking about the nobles' appearances, their attitudes. It certainly was a treat to watch the stuffy nobles wave their cocks and money around as if they were better than any of the others there.

Eventually, he brought up that she had greeted several others by name, but not him. Renee admitted very freely that she had forgotten it, as his name wasn't one that she used often. They'd only met a handful of times, and none of those times were particularly memorable.

With just the slightest upward quirk of his lip, Léonce politely suggested that he could have his name committed to her memory by the end of the evening. Lightly ran a hand down the small of her back. And she laughed, like it was the best joke she'd heard all night, and then let herself be pulled away by some noblewoman before his hand could reach her ass.

But now he's invited her to his home. Business talks, he writes, but doesn't elaborate any further in the letter. She's not even sure how his courier managed to find her with such good time, the letter isn't even three weeks old and she's very far away from where he said his home is. Her current location isn't exactly a secret either, but it's concerning how easily he had her tracked down. However, of what she knows of Léonce, he's a cunning man, and like a goddamn bloodhound when he's searching for someone. Of course he'd know how to find her.

Ren sends the courier back with a hastily written note agreeing to meet. Says she'll likely only be a few days behind him, as she plans to put another in charge for the time being to travel alone. Her right-hand man isn't happy that she's going to talk business without his consultation, but he trusts her judgement.

 

 

It's late in the night when she finally arrives, but there are already quarters secured for her. His servants are quiet but polite, and are overly cautious when they wake her for breakfast. She doesn't immediately wake up trying to go in for a kill, but she _is_ a warlord, and their employer is a prolific mercenary. He may not wake up as nicely as she does.

She ends up eating alone in the chambers, which she doesn't mind. A servant explains that he's still preparing himself for the day and "isn't fit to be seen yet", in his words. Mm. She's knows he's prideful of his appearance, so it makes sense.

His delay at least gives her time to bathe. She's covered in grime and her hair is absolutely filthy, because quite frankly Renee only cares about her appearance as far as looking halfway decent. Even then, it's only because her men won't respect her to lead them into battle if she can't lead a bar of soap across her skin.

The water is disgusting by the time she's finished, but her curls are already drying and springing back to life, and the fine later of grime and dead skin is gone. The only clean clothing she has left is a soft, airy gray dress that hugs everything a little too tightly. She doesn't mind. It's a particular favorite of hers.

Léonce is ready for her shortly after. Ren's brought to a small room, just a table with a few chairs. He looks the same as always, long dark hair and perfectly tailored clothing. He's already waiting, and wastes little time with pleasantries before getting down to business. He needs men, but doesn't have the time to recruit and train up the numbers that he requires. That, and he doesn't feel much like adding that many to his payroll if he's only going to need them this once. He'll pay her a nice sum to borrow a miniscule amount of her soldiers.

She counters with a higher price. Not only has he pulled her away from a campaign, he's now asking to pull her men away as well. It's a miniscule amount, yes, but he should know that she'll have to rearrange and provide additional protection wherever she pulls the men from because it'll be weaker there.

Léonce hums, has the decency to pretend to consider before agreeing. It's reasonable. Besides, he was expecting to have to pay her at least double what she asked. After that, there's little else to do, so they chat.

Eventually, he begins interjecting more and more flirtation into the conversation. He's making no attempt to be subtle about it. Very bluntly, she asks, "Was this all some elaborate ploy for you to try to get your cock in my mouth since I turned you down last time?"

He sits back, face remaining neutral. "No, but I certainly won't complain if it comes to that."

Renee gives him a long, unflinching look. He returns it, and neither move for a few long moments other than to blink. She blinks, slow like her eyelids are too heavy to keep up. Then, she opens them.

"Longbows," she says thickly. "You were talking about longbows."

 

 

He makes suggestions throughout the day about her sharing his bed for the night, but she turns him down every time. After the thousandth not-so-subtle offer, she turns to him.

"You're not one to get a hint, are you?" It's twilight, and the temperature is dropping. She's caught him glancing at her chest, because well, it's cold and she doesn't waste her time with things like brassieres or underwear. Nor did she think to bring her coat out with her.

Léonce looks at her from the corner of his eye, at her face this time, then shifts his gaze forward. His hands are behind his back as they walk down a path on his land, winding through the thick of the trees. "Oh I understand completely, but you have to understand that I'm a very persistent man."

"Persistence will get you nowhere. I've heard enough rumors to know your temporary lovers are only for a night, and that you want me for far longer than that."

He lets out a soft noise of amusement. "I'm surprised it took that long for rumors to spread. I've made my interest in you no secret."

"I take temporary lovers, and _only_ temporary lovers," she tells him flatly. No need to sugar coat, sugar coating leaves room for hope. "The longest I've kept a lover was a year and a half, and that's because his cock was curved just right to make me orgasm with penetration alone. The average is four months. I have no time for companionship or love."

Léonce turns to her, keeping his eyes on her face instead of on her body. There are plenty of things he could say, but he settles on, "You underestimate my patience, Renee."

"You underestimate my resolve."

He smiles at her, and it's the first time she's seen him do so. Smiles like it's the best fucking joke he's heard all night.

 

 

He throws some sort of social function, and she goes because there's a lull in wartime and she has nothing better to do. She doesn't bother to do her hair or full makeup, just wears a crimson colored formal dress that barely touches the floor and puts a little bit of matching lipstick on.

Even with her lack of effort, eyes are still on her when she arrives. If nothing else, Renee is beautiful. Beautiful in a classic way, not like other human women using magic glamour to look like an ethereal species of nonhuman.

There are whispers about her all night, too. Once Léonce spots her, he never drifts far from her side. It reminds her of a lovesick teenager. There are plenty of rumors already that they're sleeping together, and at least one person asks her directly if she should be drinking? Undoubtedly suggesting she's pregnant. In response, she downs her entire glass of champagne then and there.

A few others grumble about her status. Léonce is a baron, one who clawed his way up from the streets and never looked back. Though she's a highly prolific warlord with more land and assets than she knows what to do with, the nobles still look down on her for having no formal title. She's shed more blood then they could ever know, but all they see is a dirty farm girl, not a woman with a knife strapped to her leg who could kill them at a moment's notice.

She's pleasantly buzzed by the time things wind down, but definitely not drunk. Once again, Léonce offers the other side of his bed to her with low-lidded eyes and unspoken suggestions. Renee declines, and takes a woman to bed for the night just to piss him off.

 

 

If anything, he was correct about her underestimating his persistent. He worms his way to her side after a year, wears away at her resolve but doesn't break it. He sticks through it, even when she's downright nasty in attempt to make him stop being attracted. She's tempted to give him something, handjob, blowjob, even sex just to get him off her back. But she knows well that if she gives an inch, he'll take a mile and never leave her be once he's had a taste.

Léonce comes with her when she visits her family's homestead, and her brother Caleb eyes him warily.

"He's just a friend, nothing more. An persistent and pushy acquaintance, if I'm being more honest," Renee tells her brother, watching Léonce through the window, trekking across the yard to her little home under the shade of an old oak tree. He didn't want to deal with familial introductions, not right now.

"You sure that's all? There only other man you've ever brought home, you intended to marry-"

"And he died when we were teenagers," she says, cutting him off. "I have no interest in Léonce, Caleb, I promise. I've told him as much, but he still thinks he can get me to settle down with him or something like that. You know I have no room or time for romance."

Caleb hums, glances out as Léonce disappears from view. He knows his sister has just enough love to extend to himself, his wife, and his children, but that's about all. Though it's not hard to imagine her bringing him back for the holidays, with a ring on her hand and an extravagant war tale to tell. This Léonce is just the kind she would take, if her romantic love hadn't died with the boy she was to marry well over two hundred years before.

 

 

The bed in the guest room isn't long enough for such a tall man like him, so Ren begrudgingly shares her bed with him. It's a pain, not because she doesn't have the whole bed to herself, but because she sleeps naked and has to dig out an ancient nightgown so he doesn't get handsy with her.

Renee scowls as she rummages through the drawers, trying to find something that'll fit. He looks like the cat that got the fucking canary, smug in his underwear while he lounges on her side of the bed.

She hasn't worn nightgowns since she was in her twenties, and she can't remember which ones fit anymore. She holds a particular one up in the candlelight. It's more lingerie than gown, small and lacy and meant for her slender teenage body on the wedding night she never had. Her breasts have tripled in size since the gown was made, and she's certainly taller. It would barely cover her vulva, and she won't even pretend like her ass could fit in it even if it was longer. Still, he tells her she should try it on, with a suggestive tone.

Only because of the sentiment attached, she folds it instead of just throwing it back in. Eventually, she finds one that mostly fits, though it's still too tight in the chest. He tells her, not for the first time, that she doesn't have to wear anything to bed. Her certainly won't complain, he promises. She gives him an ugly look and steps out of her own goddamn bedroom to change so that he can't leer at her.

After dressing, she closes all the shutters and puts out the candles, ready to drop dead for the night. A few slivers of light peek in from the gaps in the shutters, but she finds the luminescence comforting as she pulls the blankets to her waist. Léonce waits a very polite five minutes before he rolls over and wraps himself around her, forcing one of his legs between hers and curling a hand around her belly. It's irritating, but she tolerates it. Her toleration rapidly drops as she feels his erection grow against her ass.

He props himself up shortly after, and that's when the first soft, breathy kiss is pressed to her neck. It catches her by surprise, but she doesn't let it show. He does it a few more times, and she can't suppress a shiver when his breath ghosts across her skin.

Léonce presses his lips to the shell of her ear. "Give me a chance to prove myself," he says, so low she barely hears him. "Let me do this for you."

With that, he runs the tip of his tongue across the outer shell. Renee full body shudders at it, and he trails his hand down her thigh. She knows he's doing this on purpose, because it's no secret she's sexually frustrated. He's driven off anyone she's tried to take as a lover and frankly she hasn't gotten fucked in at least 4 months. It's not often she goes more than a few weeks without someone between her legs.

He pulls at her, coaxes her onto her back and plants his knees on either side of her hips. It's nearly pitch black, but she can see just enough with the light peeking in through the shutters. Léonce leans down slow, braces his hands next to her head and brings their faces close. She doesn't kiss him back enthusiastically when he presses his lips to hers, but she also doesn't push him away like she should.

She shouldn't be letting him do this. If she gives in, he's never going to leave her alone. She should be pushing him off, telling him no and making it clear she doesn't want him for the thousandth time. He tugs at her gown, murmurs that she should get out of it. And she doesn't stop him when he works to get it off of her, doesn't fight him when he kisses her again and brings a hand up to tease her nipples.

It's easy to push him off. She takes him by his shoulders, flips their position and pins him there. It shouldn't be so easy for her, he's all bulk and muscle and brute strength, but maybe he was expecting to be told no again. He doesn't fight it, merely looks at her and searches her expression.

Renee isn't sure when he got his undershorts off, but it makes things a lot simpler when she reaches between her legs and strokes him a few times. He gets a look of pleasant surprise on his face, lets his eye close as she takes his cock and starts to press him into herself. She shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be soaked and working herself down onto him. She really shouldn't, but she is.

His hands come to rest on her hips while she rides him. It's a slow, torturous pace that she sets, but he works himself in sync with her to get the most out of it. He's long, thick, and brushes up against nerves that are rarely touched. She's got a preference for average sized men, but she can't deny that he feels good buried so deep in her that it aches a little.

She plants her hands firmly on his chest, but it doesn't seem to restrict his breathing at all. Doesn't even seem to make him uncomfortable. The slight change in angle from leaning forward causes him to rub against a certain spot in her, has her curtly giving him commands when he tries to change the pace or angle.

"Like that," she bites out, feeling the orgasm building. He's a smart enough man to understand that he should keep the pace she's put him on instead of speeding up, because a few moments later her nails are digging into his chest and she's shuddering around him. He keeps the same steady pace, holding her hips tight. The mindless bliss of it makes her slump, barely holding herself upright. She's barely through the last of the aftershocks when he flips their positions. She's flat on her back somehow, and he managed to stay firmly inside of her. Her hands grip at Léonce's shoulders as he gazes down at her face.

His eyes are large and dark in the sliver of moonlight coming in, his face serious even while buried in her. Though her face probably isn't much different, looking up at him with as much indifference as she can manage post-orgasm. He leans down, presses his lips to her throat and peppers kisses to the skin far too intimately for her tastes. It would be sweet if she actually had feelings for him like that.

Curling his arms under her, buries his face against her and starts to fuck her in earnest. It doesn't take long for her to have to stifle her moans, not completely letting herself go, but relaxing enough to enjoy a little more. Her knees are gripped tight around his ribs as she huffs out soft sounds of pleasure. Renee doesn't want him to know she's enjoying, but, well, she's already finished around him and she's not one to lay back and let him use her in a position she's heard men call "the starfish". Sprawling and making no sound, giving no reaction and putting in no work.

Léonce lets out quiet sounds against her throat, bedframe beginning to creak as he speeds the pace up. His thrusts are becoming quick and erratic, his breath coming in short puffs as he rocks as hard into her as he can with each thrust.

With a small strangled sound, he finishes in her, deep and very sudden. He lightly rolls his hips into it, milking out every bit of his orgasm. It would have been much more polite for him to pull out, and Renee realizes belatedly that it might have been a ploy to get her pregnant.

She fumbles over the side of the bed for her nightgown as he lays on her, his heart beating hard but steady against her breast. It takes a little will and some strange maneuvering to get it under her, but she uses it as a towel and mops his cum off of her skin when he finally gets off and pulls out of her. He apologizes as he wipes her wetness from his cock, says he doesn't usually let go that fast, but it's been many months since he's had anyone and worked himself up a little too quick.

Renee says nothing, because he wasn't a bad lay in all honesty. She's had men finish in just a few unskilled thrusts, then have the audacity to ask her if she came. Compared to them, he was a godly lover. His own damn fault for not getting his cock wet with any other woman, though. There was nothing stopping him but himself.

One thing she's never managed to break herself of was the habit of wanting to be touched post-coitus. Thankfully, she doesn't have to ask. Once the gown is on the floor, Léonce goes back to invading the spot she's laying in, wraps an arm around her waist and presses himself firm against her back. He's warm, even with a thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin, and he doesn't try to kiss her anymore which is a plus.

 

 

 

It takes effort to get out of his embrace in the morning. Their skin is stuck together with sweat, and he refuses to let go of her even in his sleep. Eventually, she manages to get herself out of his grip, and gets dressed while he snores away in the middle of her bed.

The garden behind her house grows wild and out of control since no one tends it, but there's plenty of potatoes and fresh vegetables to make for breakfast. She also takes a few eggs from the henhouse, but she's certain Caleb won't mind. 

Cooking isn't exactly her favorite thing, but no one else is here to do it for her. It's nice to have her food made exactly how she wants it, though, to have it taste like home.

She hears Léonce getting up as she's chopping peppers and chooses to ignore him. The bedroom door opens, clicks shut, and she can hear his bare feet padding along on the wooden flooring. He's smart enough to make noise before coming up behind her to touch her, because if she didn't hear him and he touched her, she'd probably stab him with her chopping knife. Still, she ignores him as he trails his fingers down her spine.

As he's heading out the front door, half dressed, she hears him murmur "Je t'amie, milaya." She knows enough of his native tongue to understand that he effectively just said "I love you, sweet."

"Isn't it a bit soon for that?" Renee asks unkindly when she hears him return, dumping the red and green peppers into a pan. It starts sizzling immediately, and smells good.

"I've been pining after you for a few years now," Léonce says, coming up behind her once again. "I'm quite certain that after last night, those feelings are justified. You were like a taste of something forbidden by the gods." He brushes her hair to the side, plants a kiss to her exposed neck before she throws an elbow at him.

She turns to say something, a half formed insult already on her tongue, but stops when she sees his face. He's got an uncharacteristically soft look, with the low burn of lust in his eyes. She's given him a taste of what he wanted, and he wants more. He's never going to fucking give up now.

Renee's made a mistake. She has made a very grave mistake, and from the smile Léonce gives her, he knows it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Leo's native language is basically like if French and Russian had a pretty but confusing baby.
> 
> Ren's is like if Gaelic and German had a real ugly baby.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> I have [my blog](http://iwillpooponthefloor.tumblr.com) on tumblr, if you'd like to check that out. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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